<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tested by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571426">Tested</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD'>Mrs_SimonTam_PHD</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Kidnapping, M/M, Pack of Female Unsubs, bad things happen, chained to a bed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:01:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch doesn't necessarily mind being chained to a bed. Just not in this situation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mentioned Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/David Rossi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tested</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For my Bad Things Happen Bingo!!</p><p>Square: Chained to a Bed</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There are many situations in which being chained to a bed is ideal. Most of them- no, let’s not kid ourselves, Aaron, all of them- involve being at home with Spencer and David. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was not that situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a situation where an unsub had him chained to a bed. Naked. For whatever reason. Hotch hadn’t been able to profile why yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least there was a blanket over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was even weirder than being chained to a bed was that there were three other beds with the same four point restraint system that Hotch had already sussed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch flexed his wrists, hissing as the cuffs dug into his skin, breaking it slightly. Not enough to bleed, just slightly. Scrapped. He stretched, arching his back off of the bed. He could feel his back popping and he groaned as he relaxed back into the admittedly soft sheets and mattress. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he began to think and profile, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was kidnapped off of the street, drugged, and woke up naked and chained to a bed. Like the start of a bad horror film. Thank God for the blanket. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Humiliation, maybe? Something else? Inherently sexual, definitely. Possible RACK BDSM philosophies. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m hungry. And thirsty. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Focus, Aaron. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He tried to slow down his racing thoughts, tried to push the hunger and the thirst out of his mind, but it was all in vain. It all ramped up the moment he heard the door open. He opened his eyes to see three beautiful women, all dressed in black skirts and button downs, enter the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The team had never considered a pack, much less a pack of women. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, he’s awake,” the obvious Alpha of the pack said. She was a petite woman, with long black hair, a fair complexion, and hazel eyes. “Luci, I want you to check his vitals. Gwyn, prepare his meal and get something to drink for him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two women sprang into action. Luci- another petite woman with long black hair and blue eyes- pulled out of a bag off her shoulder a pulse oximeter, a stethoscope, a thermometer, and a blood pressure cuff. She then sat down next to him to begin doing what she was told. Meanwhile, Gwyn- a taller red head with green eyes- began preparing an MRE and a bottle of what looked like water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha, for her part, pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Hotch’s bed. She set the notebook that Hotch didn’t see her carrying on her lap and pulled a pen out of her ponytail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch didn’t really struggle as Luci took his vitals. Like he really could, anyways. Being chained to a bed really does prohibit movement. Plus, it was a vitals check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O2 stats are 98, pulse is 87, temperature is 97.8,” Luci reported. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A straw was placed near Hotch’s mouth as Luci took his blood pressure, and Hotch took it, pleasantly surprised that it was juice. He noticed that the Alpha was writing everything down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BP’s 119 over 77,” Luci replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” the Alpha said absently. “I’ll have a chat with him. He can eat when the MRE is ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch drained the water bottle full of juice. He groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luci, please check his cath while I talk,” the Alpha said with a small smile. “Gwyn, fix another juice for him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Hotch asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Nikki,” the Alpha said, clicking her pen closed. “I represent an organization that has been interested in the FBI and how they train their male field agents against feminine wiles, and how easy they crack in bed. We’re doing a scientific study, you might say.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We started off with the White Collar Crime unit,” Luci added as she checked the catheter. Hotch isn’t sure how he didn’t feel it before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The BAU is our last unit to conduct the research on,” Nikki said. “And by far our most difficult to test. All four of you are very good at losing tails without realizing it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why are you so interested?” Hotch asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the safety and security of our nation,” Nikki said. “Men tend to have loose lips around women, especially those that they find attractive or have slept with. Women often hold the seeds to destroy an entire nation just from sleeping with powerful men, we just choose not to. It’s never the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch couldn’t help but agree with her assessment. He’s seen it happen, many times over, both as a prosecutor and as an FBI agent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s to help, overall,” Nikki continued. “After our analysis of the BAU and we’ve looked over the data, we will compile it into a report and submit it to the Director anonymously, with full summaries on each male field agent and their performances.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well that explained a lot to Hotch, in all honesty. “But why commit felony level crimes in order to collect the data?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be honest, Agent,” Nikki laughed softly, “do you believe that the fBI would want to ever authorize this kind of an investigation?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had a point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll confirm your basic information, but the real tests won’t begin until we have the rest of the men on your team,” Nikki added. “Gwyn, Luci, uncuff him so he can sit up and eat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch’s wrists were released, and the two women helped him sit up and Nikki unclicked her fountain pen. He rubbed his wrists and rolled out his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aaron Hotchner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Age?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“43.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Date of Birth?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“April 26, 1977.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marital status?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch swallowed. “Widowed,” he said. Even after all of these years, Hayley’s death still hurt deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any children?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwyn handed him the MRE. Chili mac and cheese. One of the better MREs, according to Dave. He took the rubber spork and began to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any identifiable scars, birthmarks, or tattoos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nine stab wounds in my chest from George Foyet, a burn mark on my inner left thigh, and a small cafe au lait birthmark on my right foot,” Hotch recited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nikki wrote down everything. “Current occupation?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prior occupation?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prosecutor for the District Attorney’s office for the Commonwealth of Virginia.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwyn handed him a new bottle of juice, and Hotch gladly drank it. “What is this?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fruit punch that’s been fortified with vitamin C, vitamin D, and calcium,” Nikki replied. “Many correctional facilities across the country use it for the inmates’ meals.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mind if I take a few packets home?” Hotch asked half jokingly. Jack would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Nikki said mysteriously. “Finish eating and drinking, then the girls will cuff you back up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to cuff up the cute nerd,” Luci pouted playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just want to corrupt the innocent one,” Gwyn teased. “I prefer the silver fox. At the very least, he’ll know what he’s doing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but imagine that jock picking you up and pinning to the wall,” Luci sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch listened to the two girls discuss the merits of the rest of his team as he finished eating and drinking his fill, amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nikki stood up gracefully and smoothed out her skirt. “Luci, I want his vitals taken every hour,” she said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Represent, indeed. I bet she heads the organization.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Gwyn, I want water or fruit punch in him every half hour. Understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am,” they replied, pushing Hotch back down to cuff him back to the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal a petite female in a long skirt and holding a cane. She had the sides of her head shaved. “Nikki?” she called. “They’re bringing in another one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Maria,” Nikki said. “Have the girls bring him in strip out, cuff him. The works. You all know the drill.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure do, Nikki,” Maria replied. She opened up the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch couldn’t help the horrified scream that left his throat as four women carried in a passed out Morgan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine,” Nikki said with a smile. “Two more to go.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tumblr: @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell</p><p>Twitter: @Alendra_Dragon</p><p>Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>